Modern Warfare
by Gvsz
Summary: The world is going to Hell. The Middle East is being torn apart by fighting and Russia is forcefully being converted back into the U.S.S.R. Can America and Britain intervene, or is all hope lost? As a SAS team and a Marine unit try to fight the threat, things turn out to be not as easy as they first thought, in "Modern Warfare."
1. FNG

**Disclaimer: COD4 is not mine, but rather Infinity Ward's.**

**Hi there. This is my first fanfiction, so don't expect this story to be a masterpiece. Anyway, this is "Modern Warfare," the novelization of the game. I'm a huge fan of COD and browse the fanfictions regularly. This fanfiction won't deviate much from the game, but I'll add my own stuff in here and there, including some real world events. Either way, without further ado, here it here; Modern Warfare.**

Modern Warfare

Chapter 1: F.N.G.

**10: 48: 27, Thursday 16****th****, June 2011**

**22 Special Air Service Regiment Headquarters, Credenhill, U.K.**

_An image of a map started up on the computer screen. By the computer sat a man, in his mid-late Thirties, with a frown on his face. He knew what was going on in the world and the picture in front reminded him. Suddenly, he heard a door open and shut. Someone was approaching him. Luckily, however, not any hostile soldiers or militia that he was used to fighting. He turned around, to see an older man, somewhere in his Forties, with a bonnie hat, approaching him._

_The man at the computer skipped any usual greeting and went straight to business. "Good news first," he said sarcastically, "the world's in great shape. We've got a civil war in Russia, government loyalists against Ultranationalist rebels, and 15,000 nukes at stake." The older man smirked. "Just another day at the office," He said. Such things were far from unheard of in the Special Air Service. An image of an Arab man with sunglasses and a red beret showed up on the screen. "Khaled Al-Asad. __C__urrently the second most powerful man in the Middle East. Now word on the street is he's got the minerals to be top dog down there. Intel's keeping an eye on him."_

_Al-Asad was becoming a real worry to the Western World. The Arab Spring had been going strong since December last year. First of all, Tunisia and Egypt had been converted from dictatorships to Democracies, and Libya was showing signs that it was going the same way. But earlier that month, something quite unexpected happened: Saudi Arabia had gone from minor protests to full blown civil war in a matter of days. The king of Saudi Arabia, King Abdullah, had been brought down, unusually peacefully compared to the other Arab countries. However, the leader of the revolt, Yasir Al-Fulani, had allowed him to stay in power, albeit constitutionally. Unfortunately, King Abdullah had been attacked by extremists, and was currently in hospital, with only a 50-50 chance of pulling through. As such, Al-Fulani had been made President for the time being. However, Al-Asad had come in, and was showing signs of bringing down this newly formed Democracy._

_The older man, Captain Price, looked down to Gaz, the man at the computer. "And the bad news?" He said. An image of a man in his late Thirties showed up on the screen. He had blue eyes and a buzz cut, with a strip of hair thicker than the rest, as if attempting to grow a Mohawk. "We've got a new guy joining us today fresh out of Selection," Gaz said. "His name's Soap."_

**14: 28: 24, Thursday 16****th****, June 2011**

**22 Special Air Service Regiment Headquarters, Credenhill, U.K.**

Soap walked inside the building. His first day as part of the SAS, generally considered being the best of the best in the army, as one of the best Special Forces in the entire world, and as such Soap felt honoured to be part of it. Snapping out of his thoughts, he saw Gaz approach him. "Good to see you, mate," he said "Take one of the rifles on the table." Soap walked over to Armoury, where he saw Private Lootz working on a laptop, as well as dozens of weapons, some of which he was sure the SAS didn't use, such as AK-47's and M14's. Regardless, Soap saw a G36C on the table and picked it up.

"You know the drill. Get to station one and aim your rifle downrange," Gaz said, walking up onto the platform overlooking the firing range. Soap turned away from the table and approached Station One. "Now aim your rifle downrange," Gaz said again. Soap thought that was a bit redundant, but dismissed it as he did what Gaz instructed. "Now, shoot each target when aiming down your sight." Soap did this, firing at the target coming down from the ceiling, and the one on the floor. "Lovely," Gaz said. "Now, shoot at the targets while firing from the hip." Three cardboard cut-outs of gun-bearing hostiles sprang up at the far end of the firing range. Soap fired from the hip, resulting in the gun's accuracy suffering accordingly, wasting half a magazine on just three targets. Soap didn't know why Gaz was making him go over stuff about firing which he'd already done a decade ago when he'd joined the army, but he supposed Gaz wanted to see if he was still sharp.

Gaz wasn't done yet, however. "Now I'm going to block the targets with a sheet of plywood. I want you to shoot the targets through the wood." No sooner had he said that, than the aforementioned plywood popped up in the middle of the range, with three cut-outs behind it. Soap shot through the wood, using the other half of his magazine, but managed to hit all the three targets. "Good," Gaz said. "Bullets will penetrate thin, weak materials like wood, plaster and sheet metal. Now I'm going to make the targets pop up one at a time. Hit them all as fast as you can. As long as you're aiming near the target, you can snap onto them by repeatedly popping in and out of aiming down the sight." Soap reloaded the gun and aimed downrange again. A target popped up, and Soap shot it. A second target popped up, with Soap shooting that one as well. All the targets popped up one at a time, with Soap only needing to take half a second to switch to the other target and pull the trigger. Eventually, all targets except the last had been hit, in less than ten seconds. Gaz was very impressed. "Proper good job mate! Now go get a side arm from the Armoury."

Soap walked back over to the Armoury, and found a USP.45 Pistol on the table, presumably put there by Pvt. Lootz. "Good. Now switch to your rifle," Gaz said. Soap put the pistol in his holster and lifted up his G36C. "Now pull out your side arm." Soap let the rifle drop to his side and brought out the pistol. "Remember - switching to your pistol is always faster than reloading. All right Soap, come this way." Soap moved back to Position One, where he shot the last target with the USP .45. Gaz continued, "Using your knife is even faster than switching to your pistol. Knife the watermelon." Soap turned round to the table underneath Gaz's platform and saw that Gaz had placed a watermelon on it. Soap did as instructed, taking out his knife and quickly slashing the watermelon, sending pieces flying everywhere. Gaz smirked. "Nice! Your fruit killing skills are remarkable! Captain Price wants to see you."

Soap walked out the door and onto the base. Here he was, Credenhill. Originally designed as a weapon cache in WW1, it was now HQ for the 22nd SAS regiment. Soap walked towards the third hanger. He passed the explosives training area and the obstacle course, which he would be doing later. Soap stopped walking. He was at the hanger. Inside would be the man who would be his superior for the rest of the foreseeable future. He moved towards the door, when it opened automatically. Inside were four men. He didn't have a clue who three of the men were; they had gasmasks on after all. But as for the fourth one, he could see his face as broad as daylight: Captain Price.

"It's the F.N.G. sir," the guy to Price's right said. "Go easy on him sir, it's his first day in the regiment." Capt. Price eyed Soap with curiosity. "Right, what the hell kind of name is 'Soap', eh? How'd a Muppet like you pass Selection?" Price didn't let Soap answer that question, and went straight to business. "Soap, it's your turn for the CQB test. Everyone else head to observation." Soap realised now what the giant wooden structure in front of him was: a Close Quarters Battle test. Price continued "For this test you'll have to run the cargo-ship solo in less than 60 seconds. Gaz holds the current squadron record at 19 seconds. Good luck. Climb the ladder over there." Soap walked over to the tower and climbed up the stepladder. Once he was at the top, he saw several ammo crates and another SAS officer, Sgt. Lovejoy. "Pick up that MP5 and four flashbangs," Price ordered. Soap walked over to the MP5 and picked it up, putting down his G36C. He then grabbed the flashbangs, and Price started giving orders again. "On my go, I want you to rope down to the deck and rush to position 1. After that, you will storm down the stairs to position 2. Then hit positions 3 and 4, following my precise instructions at each position. Grab the rope when you're ready." Soap stood still for a moment, memorising what Captain Price had said; Rope, Position 1, stairs, Position 2, 3 and 4. He had it. He readied himself, walked over to the rope and, amidst Price shouting "GO! GO! GO!" roped down onto the cardboard deck.

As soon as he lifted his gun up, three targets automatically sprang up on the 'deck.' "HIT THE TARGETS!" Soap heard the Captain bark. He swung his MP5 from left to right without aiming, the bullets spraying everywhere, but the targets were hit. "POSITION 2, GO!" Soap quickly ran towards the side of the deck, into the bridge, and down the stairs. "HIT THE TARGETS!" Another target appeared at the bottom of the stairs, only to be quickly mown down by a stream of bullets. Soap turned left and found another room. "FLASHBANG THROUGH THE DOOR!" Soap listened to his Captain, chucked a flashbang into the room and stood behind the wall, protecting him from the blinding flash. He immediately turned around and entered the room. "POSITION 4! HIT THE TARGETS!" He shot at one of these, and then shot at the other. Unfortunately, at that moment his MP5 ran out of ammo. With no time to reload, Soap let go of the gun and brought out his USP.45 ""POSITON 5 GO!"" Once again, two targets popped up. "HIT THE TARGETS"! Soap shot one, then the other. "SIX, GO!" Soap came out of the room and saw another "FLASHBANG THROUGH THE DOOR!" Soap did the same technique again, hiding behind the wall. After the explosion, he instantly turned around. "SHOOT THE TARGETS!" Soap obeyed, and shot down both targets. "FINAL POSITION, GO!" Soap ran out of the wooden mock-up and saw a red circle 30 feet to his right with "Finish" written on it. "Sprint to the finish!" Finally completing the course, Soap slowed down and tried to get his breath back and reload his MP5. He'd counted in his head, and he knew he'd just ran the course in 29 seconds. He felt pleased with himself.

Captain Price looked over at Soap, his face neither impressed, nor disappointed. "Pretty good Soap," he said, "But I've seen better." Soap felt really annoyed at the older man. He'd just run the course in less than half a minute, his response was basically "Try harder." "Climb up the ladder if you want another go, otherwise come over to the monitors for a debrief." Soap snapped out of his trance, realising the Captain had just addressed him again. Well, if he wanted him to beat Gaz's time, then he'd beat Gaz's time. He walked over to the ladder and climbed up it again, determined to prove to the old man he was capable. "Replace any flashbangs you used," the Captain said. Soap did just that, but then also swapped his pistol for the G36C. This, he reckoned would stave of the time. "Grab the rope when you're ready," Soap once again heard his Captain order. With determination practically coursing through his veins, he ran at the rope and threw himself at it, quickly shooting down.

This time, Soap was only vaguely aware of the Captain shouting orders. He barely paid attention to anything; everything was in a blur. Position 1, Position 2, Stairs, Position 3, flashbang, Position 4, out of ammo, switch to other gun, Position 5, Position 6, flashbang, and before Soap knew it, he was back at the finish. He paused, and realised he'd run the course in 18 seconds. He'd beat Gaz! Inside, Soap rejoiced. He turned to the Captain, hoping to see the dumbstruck look on his face. What, he saw, however, infuriated him: Captain Price was standing there, face still indifferent. "Alright Soap, that's enough. You'll do. Climb up the ladder if you want another go, otherwise come over to the monitors for a debrief." With an inwards sigh, Soap realised he would never win, and jogged over to the monitors.

Captain Price and the other SAS members stood there, waiting for him. The moment Soap stopped by them, the Captain started talking again. "Gentlemen, the cargo-ship mission is a go. Get yourselves sorted out. Wheels up at 0200. Dismissed." With that, Soap left the hanger and headed to the barracks. He bet Gaz would be pissed off when he heard his record had been broken, but for now, all Soap wanted to do was to get to the barracks, sit down for a bit and prepare for the next mission.


	2. Crew Expendable

**Disclaimer: COD4 is not mine, but rather Infinity Ward's.**

Modern Warfare

Chapter 2: Crew Expendable

_**01:02:27, Friday 17**__**th**__**, June 2011**_

_**Bering Strait, 20 miles west of Dillingham.**_

_Soap readied himself for his first mission in the SAS. Their mission had been put forward several hours, so they had taken off at 22:00. By the time it would take to get to the operation, they would have been well below bingo fuel, and there wasn't enough time to wait for the helicopter to refuel, so they had hitched a ride in an American helicopter after touching down in US._

_Soap looked up and saw Captain Price taking out a cigar to smoke. He seemed quite laid-back about a mission that could be his last -Any mission, at any point, could be a soldier's last- but it just helped emphasised how much of a veteran this man was. Soap looked over to Gaz, who, as he expected, was pissed off about Soap beating his time. Smirking to himself, Soap turned to Captain Price as he prepared to fill in the rest of the squad._

"_Bravo Team," the Captain said, "__the Intel on this Op comes from our informant in Russia. The package is aboard a medium freighter. Estonian registration number 52775. There is a small crew and a security detail on board." By Soap's side, a laptop was running over a simulation of the Ship, detailing its structure and its crew. "Rules of engagement sir?" Gaz quipped up. Captain Price simply looked over at him and flatly said "Crew expendable."_

**01:23:36, Friday 17th, June 2011**

**Bering Strait, 30 miles south of Provideniya**

As the violent storm continued to lash the helicopter, Soap tried his best to ignore it, as well as the nauseas feeling growing in his stomach. To his left, Gaz and Pvt Griffen were sitting down opposite each other, the emotion on their faces unreadable under their gasmasks. In the front of the helicopter were Sgt Wallcroft and another SAS Trooper. Soap didn't know who he was, so for now, he was just going to give him a random name; Cpl Kent seemed good. Finally, right in front of Soap, was Captain Price, smoking his cigar.

"Baseplate, this is Hammer Two-Four. We have visual on the target. E.T.A sixty seconds," the pilot reported. "Copy Two-Four." Outside of the helicopter, through the heaviest storm he had ever seen, Soap saw the ship come into view. Several containers on deck had been wrecked from the storm. "Thirty seconds. Going dark." Soap looked up, confused. It had only been about ten seconds since the pilot had seen the target, but hey- they didn't call **Estimated** Time of Arrival for nothing; this weather looked very unpredictable, so you wouldn't know if you should slow down or go normally. "Ten seconds. Radio check. Go to secure channel."

Captain Price sat up and tossed his cigar out into the ocean, promptly pulling his gasmask over his face. Soap did the same. "Lock and load," the Captain said. Soap held up his MP5 and 'HK Slapped' it; He loved doing that. "Green light!" Hammer Two-Four said, "GO! GO! GO!" Captain Price kicked out the rope and he, Soap and Cpl Kent fast-roped onto the deck. Once Soap was on his feet, he looked into the bridge and saw three men. "Weapons free." With Captain Price's order, a hail of bullets struck the men, killing them instantly. "Bridge secure!" Kent said. Soap, meanwhile, took the opportunity to reload. Captain Price contacted the other members of the squad. "Hold your fire! Gaz, stay in the bird until we secure the deck. Over." "Roger that," Gaz replied.

The Captain kicked open the door. "Squad, on me." Soap and Kent followed him into the bridge and down the flight of stairs. "Stairs clear!" Soap reached the bottom of the stairs and was met with a very amusing site: A drunken man, stumbling into the corridor. He raised his glass and announced "Пей на здоровье, полковник!" An amused smile lit up on Soap's face. He'd taken a course on the Russian language and alphabet, and he understood perfectly what the drunk guy had just said: "Drink to health, Colonel!" Bringing his mind back to the reality of the mission, Soap took out his USP.45 Pistol fired several bullets at the man, hitting him in the hip. "Last call," Kent said. Soap was beginning to like this guy and his witty one-liners. The trio of SAS soldiers walked down the corridor, before finding two sleeping men in their quarters. Kent shot them both. "Sleep tight." Soap looked at Kent, finding what he did a bit heartless. But then again, they probably would have woken up to kill them anyway. "Crew quarters clear," Captain Price reported. "Move up."

The three men walked out of the corridor and back onto the deck. "Forward deck is clear," Hammer Two-Four said, "Green light on Alpha! Go!" In front of Soap, a rope fell down onto the deck, and Gaz, Wallcroft and Griffen slid down it. "Ready, Sir," Gaz reported. "Fan out. Three metre spread," Captain Price ordered. Soap moved to the right side of the ship and began to move in unison with the others up the ship. However, halfway up, they were met with two spotlight-wielding men on a platform. Gaz saw them too. "Got two on the platform." Captain Price looked up towards them. "I see 'em," he said. Soap raised his MP5 and shot the one on the right. "Target Neutralized," Kent reported. Soap shot the remaining one in the chest. "Tango down," Gaz finished. The squad continued going down the ship, with Soap taking the extra measure of searching inside the containers. Luckily, there were no ambushes. The only thing antagonising Soap at the moment was the atrocious weather; He thought his country had shitty weather, but this was ridiculous!

Eventually, the Squad reached the end of the cargo deck. Unfortunately, they were met with an unwanted obstacle: a whole group of men firing at them from the Upper Deck. Soap crouched behind a crate and returned fire with his MP5. The squad needed heavier firepower for this. "Hammer Two-Four," Captain Price reported into his mic, "we've got tangos on the second floor." "Roger," the pilot said, "Engaging." The helicopter swept in front of the windows, mowing down all opposition with its minigun. With its job done, Hammer Two-Four began to fly off into the ocean, "Bravo Six, Hammer's at bingo fuel. We're bugging out. Big Bird will be on station for evac in ten," the pilot reported. "Copy, Hammer," the Captain said, Bravo Six being his callsign. The squad climbed the steps out of the cargo deck, Captain Price once again giving orders to the team. "Wallcroft, Griffen, cover our six. The rest of you, on me." "Roger that," Gaz once again quipped in, as Wallcroft and Griffen- which one was which, Soap didn't know- stayed by the Cargo Deck, watching for reinforcements.

Soap, Gaz, Kent and Captain Price stacked up by the door. Gaz pulled a W1200 shotgun off of his back. "I like to keep this for close encounters," he stated. Underneath his mask, Soap grinned, humoured by the _Aliens_ paraphrase. He was sure Gaz was grinning as well. Captain Price turned the wheel on the door, opening it. "On my mark… Go!" The quadrat of men moved inside, Captain Price constantly reminding the others to check their corners. Gaz and Kent checked the left and right of the corridor, deeming them clear. "Move up," Captain Price ordered. Soap turned to the left into another corridor, finding a set of stairs. The four men move down the stairs into the bowels of the ship. However, when they reached the bottom of the stairs, they were met with an entire group of men firing right back at them. Finding no available cover, Soap took a flashbang off of his belt, and threw it right into the group of men. The flashbang worked almost instantaneously, blinding the men, leaving them vulnerable. Soap brought up his MP5 and ran towards the men, shooting them all dead, before reloading. "Hallway clear," the Captain once again stated. The Squad began to move down the corridor, with Gaz and Kent once again checking the left and right and Captain Price reminding them to check their corners.

Soap reached the end of the corridor, the three others close behind. On the other side of the doorway, there was a huge room with cargo crates inside. "Standby," Captain Price said, "On my go." The four men stacked up by the doorway. Kent peeked his head into the room, and just narrowly avoided having his face shot off. If there wasn't a gasmask obstructing his face, Soap was sure that Kent would have a facial expression along the lines of 'Jesus Christ!' Realising that a distraction was needed, Captain Price threw a flashbang into the room, a white flash illuminating the area just a second later. "Flashbang out. Go! Go! Go!" Soap and the others ran into the room, finding a number of men similar to the previous group firing at them. The SAS team began to return fire, with Kent confirming the catwalk clear. Soap tossed a grenade into the enemy group, the blast obliterating most of them. Soap ran down the stairs and shot the remaining opposition. "Squad, on me," Captain Price ordered. The squad began to move along towards the other side of the room, with Soap taking point. "No Tangos in sight," Kent said. Soap moved around the side of the container, when suddenly a man came out of nowhere, screaming and firing a pistol. Startled, Soap took out his USP.45 and fired the remaining bullets into the man's head, killing him. As he reloaded, Soap glared angrily at Kent: 'No Tangos in sight' HIS ASS! Looking down at the man he had just killed, Soap saw what gun he'd been using: A Desert Eagle pistol. Soap grinned; He'd always wanted one of those. Holstering his USP.45, Soap picked up the Desert Eagle before re-joining the other, stacking up by the door. "Ready, Sir," Gaz said. Captain Price promptly shouted "GO!" and kicked open the door.

The four SAS troopers ran into the next room, similar to the previous one. "Clear left," Gaz said. "Clear Right," Kent said. "Move!" Captain Price ordered. Soap ran up the steps onto another catwalk. On the other side of the room, more men were shooting at them. Soap returned fire, side-stepping along the catwalk. "Movement right," Gaz reported. Captain Price saw them to. "Move up." Soap, followed by the others, ran across the catwalk and down the steps, reloading his MP5. Hiding behind crates, he began picking of the remaining men along with the rest of his team, when his MP5 ran out of ammo. With no time to reload, Soap brought out the Desert Eagle and shot the man standing over him, sending the man sprawling onto his back and the immense recoil nearly making the gun fly out of Soap's hands. Soap emerged from cover and shot the last two men standing, before reloading the pistol. "Forward area clear!" Gaz reported. Captain Price gave the order to move, before stacking up at the doorway. After Gaz and Kent informed the Captain they were ready, the older man threw a flashbang into the room. After the white flash and the audible moans given off by the people unlucky enough to get caught in the blast radius, the SAS troopers moved inside.

There was a substantial number of men in this room, hiding behind the crates and other containers. Soap gunned down five men in front with his MP5, before tossing two grenades onto the other side of the room, killing ten men at once. Standing up, Soap was immediately faced with a man about to hit him with the stock of his AK47. Taking out his knife, Soap quickly slashed the man in the chest, leaving a large laceration and killing the man almost instantly. With the other members of the squad finishing off everyone on their side of the room, Soap ran to the other side of the room and fired at the remaining men with his Desert Eagle, landing a headshot on the last one. "Tango down," Kent said. "Report. All clear?" Captain Price asked. "Roger that."

The four men regrouped at a large container on the other side of the room. Gaz had a Geiger counter with him, and it was going absolutely berserk. "I'm getting a strong reading sir. You might want to take a look at this," he said, and pulled open the container, revealing an apparently radioactive box, adorned with red flags. Captain Price, having lifted his gasmask off of his face, looked over it with curiosity. "Hmm... it's in Arabic." Having found what they were looking for, Captain Price radioed command. "Baseplate, this is Bravo Six. We found it. Ready to secure package for transport." Baseplate, the codename for command, responded back over the radio. "No time, Bravo Six. Two bogies heading your way fast. Grab what you can and get the hell out of there!" Soap looked at the others in alarm, who were surely wearing a similar expression under their gasmasks. "Fast movers. Probably MiGs. We'd better go," Gaz said. Captain Price looked over to Soap. "Soap, grab the manifest in the container," He said sternly, "Move!" Soap ran inside the container and grabbed the clipboard containing the manifest on top of the box, all as quickly as possible so as to not get any ill effects from the radiation. "Alright," Captain Price ordered, "Everyone top-side. Double time!" The quadrat of men ran towards the exit. "Wallcroft, Griffen, what's your status?" Captain Price asked over the radio. "All ready in the helicopter, Sir," Pvt Griffen said, "Enemy aircraft inbound. Shit! They've opened fire! Get out of there now!" Soap realised that the MiGs were literally right above them, but he didn't have to wait long.

Before Soap couldn't think of anything else, he was flying through the air as a huge explosion rocked the ship, landing on the hard, metal floor. "Bravo Six! Come in! Bravo Six, what's your status?" said Big Bird, their evac helicopter, desperately. "Shit! What the hell happened?!" Kent shouted. Soap realised the surface beneath him was wet. Looking up, Soap saw in horror that the hull had been torn, letting the freezing cold waters of the Bering Strait in. Gaz saw it to. "The ship's sinking! We've got to go now!" "Bravo Six, come in damn it!" Big Bird nearly shouted over the comms. Looking to his right, Soap saw that Captain Price, unlike him, had regained his footing. "Big Bird, this is Bravo Six. We're on our way out!" the Captain shouted, before noticing Soap. "On your feet, soldier!" He shouted, pulling Soap up, "We! Are! LEAVING!" The four men sprinted up the steps onto the catwalks, Soap bringing up the rear. Suddenly, the wall beside him ruptured, sending more freezing cold water into the ship and causing Soap to stumble. "Back on your feet!" Captain Price shouted to Soap, "Let's go!" Soap regained his footing and sprinted after the rest of the team. The ceiling was beginning to fall apart now. "WATCH YOUR HEAD!" Gaz shouted, "Go! Go! Keep moving!" Soap kept trying to catch up with the team but every time he did, the floor shook, causing him to stumble and fall ten feet behind. "SHE'S BREAKING AWAY!" Gaz yelled. Soap looked up and indeed saw that the very catwalks they were running on were breaking away beneath their feet. "Come on!" Captain Price said "Come on!" Running towards the doorway, Soap sprinted even faster, as the catwalk was twisting away from the door. Luckily, Soap reached the doorway in time, and ran into the corridor, where he was rewarded with more sprinting.

"WATCH THE PIPES!" Soap looked at the wall and saw that the pipes were rupturing; hissing out whatever was in them. "Talk to me, Bravo Six. Where the hell are you?!" said Big Bird, evidently getting impatient. "Stand by! We're almost there!" The entire ship was slanting now, and Soap was having trouble running. He reached the stairs, jumping up the steps two at a time before the slant became too much. "WHICH WAY?!" Kent shouted, "WHICH WAY TO THE HELICOPTER?!" "TO THE RIGHT! TO THE RIGHT!" "WE'RE RUNNING OUT OF TIME!" Gaz yelled, "COME ON! LET'S GO!" Soap looked at the end of the hallway, seeing the doorway where they had entered the ship. Urging himself to run more, Soap managed to get to the deck, only now the ship was slanting so much, he couldn't run "Keep moving!" Captain Price yelled. Soap looked up, desperately trying to find the helicopter, but it wasn't there. "WHERE THE HELL IS IT?!" Gaz yelled, evidently as panicked as Soap. But, as if on cue, there the helicopter was, and Kent, Gaz and Captain Price ran into it. But, as Soap neared it, the helicopter began to pull away.

"JUMP FOR IT!" Griffen yelled. Soap did just that, jumping with all his might, but as he landed, he immediately slipped clinging on by just his arms. Feeling himself falling off, he desperately tried to grab on to something, but there was nothing to grab onto. Just as his hands gave up, with his life flashing before his eyes -"Gotcha!"- Something grabbed him. Looking up, Soap saw that Captain Price had saved him at the last minute. "We're all aboard! Go!" he shouted to the pilot. Soap would thank the Captain later, but for now, he just wanted to get his breath back. "Baseplate, this is Big Bird. Package secure, returning to base. Out." Soap looked out of the helicopter, leaning against the wall to support himself, as he saw the ship sink completely, forever lost at sea.

**So, that's my second chapter done. I hope you guys enjoyed it. The whole thing with Soap randomly naming a SAS guy Cpl Kent is my way of explaining why people are given randomly generated names in COD; the player character doesn't know their name, so randomly names them themselves. Anyway, I would appreciate reviews, and I'll try and get "The Coup" up soon. See you guys later, hopefully.**


	3. The Coup

**Disclaimer: COD4 is not mine, but rather Infinity Ward's.**

Modern Warfare

Chapter 3: The Coup

_**06:15:45 (UTC-5), Wednesday 5**__**th**__**, October 2011**_

_**The Pentagon, Virginia, United States**_

_As the satellite image drew in closer, the man watching the footage grew increasingly worried. He was the head of the United States Marine Corps, and he was currently on comms with a marine who had patched him up to a satellite feed. Throughout the last 4 months, Khaled Al-Asad had been threatening to overthrow Al-Fulani. No-one had expected him to go through with it. But now, he had launched a full-blown Coup D'état without warning. Al-Fulani had been taken to a designated area by his bodyguards, but Al-Asad was bound to find him sometime soon._

"_Car is inbound," the marine said. Sure enough, as the image zoomed in closer, the Commander could see a car was driving towards Al-Fulani's hideout. "Continue tracking," he instructed. Al-Asad's sudden move had caught everyone completely off-guard, and none of the Marine Corps, or indeed any of the U.S. military, would be able to mobilise in time. The U.S. was essentially being forced to watch a country crumble under a madman and being powerless to stop it. It was amazing how many men Al-Asad had convinced to join him._

_The car stopped in front of a Mosque. As the commander looked down onto the area, two men went inside. With a sickening feeling that wracked him with guilt, the commander realised that, from this point on, Al-Fulani had no escape._

**14:16:42 (UTC+3), Wednesday 5th, October 2011**

**Jeddah, Saudi Arabia**

The doors of the Mosque flung open, blinding Al-Fulani with sunlight. He was being dragged by the arms by two men, who had just shot down his remaining bodyguards _while still in the Mosque! _Did they have any honour or respect at all?! Al-Fulani had no time to dwell on this, because at that moment, a booming Arabic voice echoed across the whole city, the voice of the human scum that called itself Khaled Al-Asad.

"Today, we rise again as one nation, in the face of betrayal and corruption!" Al-Fulani looked up, wondering what the hell he meant by corruption. In front of the former president, a car waited for him, and he was promptly thrown into it. Getting up from the car seat, Al-Fulani was greeted with an AK-47 butt stock to the face. Although painful, such treatment was not unknown to him; He'd been a Major in the Saudi Arabian army after all. The man with the AK-47 banged the top of the car, signalling for it to drive away. Getting up a second time, this time successfully, Al-Fulani turned to see a Caucasian man in the passenger seat, wearing a blue tracksuit and wielding a Mini-Uzi. As the car drove down the road, Al-Asad's voice once again echoed over the city.

"We all trusted this man to deliver our great nation into a new era of prosperity." Al-Fulani saw the street filled with militia firing guns without a care in the world, as if they were simply toys to play with. Only now did Al-Fulani understand how they could believe the blatant lies; they were just uneducated, angry young men. Men who blindly believed in the Coup. As he pondered this, Al-Fulani saw the Caucasian man saying something to the driver of the car. The driver turned the car to drive up a sandy slope, right behind a BMP. The man's phone began to ring, and began talking to whoever was on the other end, then looking back towards Al-Fulani, and getting back on the phone again.

"But like our monarchy before the Revolution, he has been colluding with the West with only self-interest at heart!" Al-Asad once again boomed over the city. Al-Fulani sat there, dumbstruck. Al-Asad was accusing King Abdullah of 'colluding' with the west? Al-Fulani had known King Abdullah in person. As much as Al-Fulani had disagreed with his ideals, King Abdullah had loved this country. He would never use an agreement with the west to abuse it. But now, he was dead, shot a month ago in the King Saud Medical Complex just as he was recovering. The rest of the former royal family, no longer in charge of the country but still a large part of the political affairs, had been evacuated to India for their own protection.

"Collusion breeds slavery! And we shall not be enslaved!" Al-Fulani was barely listening to the voice of the pathetic asshole anymore, instead looking out of the car. Outside, some civilians had stolen several guns, not that guns were difficult to find in this country, and were fighting the soldiers. One half of Al-Fulani was happy seeing that not all hope was lost. But the other half was depressed by the fact that his supporters had been forced to turn to warfare. At the end of the road a military vehicle poured out men onto the street. With the road blocked, the driver took a detour down a narrow alley. A solitary man was present, spraying graffiti onto the wall. He ran when the car neared. Further down the alley, a man vaulted over a chain-link fence, narrowly evading the dog behind him.

"The time has come to show our true strength. They underestimate our resolve. Let us show that we do not fear them. As one people, we shall free our brethren from the yoke of foreign oppression!" _True Strength? Foreign Oppression? _Lies upon lies upon deceit upon lies. Yes, Saudi Arabia was by no means a weak nation. Yes, it had ties to the West. But its strength couldn't compete to the West. It was always independent. Al-Asad was shoving lies and propaganda down people's throats and they were too uneducated to know any better. With a twinge of regret, Al-Fulani wished he'd reformed the education system sooner. By this time, the car had left the alley and was on the road again. Al-Fulani looked at the side of the road and saw several civilians in a line. Several soldiers were aiming their guns at them, and Al-Fulani knew what was going to happen a moment before it did. A hail of bullets struck the civilians, their bodies falling like ragdolls. A tear fell down Al-Fulani's face. He'd tried to stabilize the country, but instead the country had only fallen further, with innocent people killed in such a worthless manner.

"As I speak, our armies are nearing their objectives, by which we will restore the independence of a once great nation." The car had reached its destination: a large arena. Al-Fulani knew the place, for it had been the very place where he had made several speeches about the changing face of the country. Riydah had been too dangerous because of loyalist extremists, so Jeddah had been used temporarily. Now, however, it didn't matter, for a madman had taken over the country and put a halt to all reforms in mind. In front of the arena was proof of the madmen's success: Several cheering militia at the entrance, firing guns into the air. The car slowed down before finally stopping. One of the men opened the car door before another threw Al-Fulani onto the ground. Looking up, the former president saw one of the men, cloth covering his face, stand over and stamp his foot in his face. As he lost consciousness, the last thing Al-Fulani heard was Al-Asad's voice once again booming over the city. "Our noble crusade has begun."

Coming to, Al-Fulani realised he was being dragged by either arm. He was in the archway leading into the arena. Several metres away, he could see a bald man in a leather jacket. Before he could inspect further, he found himself drifting back into unconsciousness again. But just seconds later, Al-Fulani snapped awake again, to find the mysterious figure staring right into his face. He was Caucasian, yet he had dark skin. He also had a thick beard, a permanent sneer on his face, but most interestingly, his left arm was missing. He looked up at Al-Fulani's captors and nodded. Moving away, Al-Fulani saw a wooden, bloody stake in the middle of the arena. Evidently other political figures had been taken here. As he was being tied up, Al-Fulani spotted the man he hated on a level he never thought was humanely possible: Khaled Al-Asad, who was talking into the camera.

"Just as they lay waste to our country, we shall lay waste to theirs." Apparently finished with his speech, Al-Asad walked over to the one-armed man. However, the man pulled out a Desert Eagle on Al-Asad, who stopped like a deer in the headlights. Al-Fulani stared, confused. The one-armed man was in charge? Who was he? Luckily for A-Asad, the man simply flipped the gun around in his hand for Al-Asad to take. It had become clear to Al-Fulani that Al-Asad was just a pathetic puppet of the man. The man might as well have said "Now, go and kill Al-Fulani like a good dog." Walking back to the camera for one last time, Al-Asad told the world "This is how it begins." As he began to walk towards Al-Fulani, time seemed to slow to a nauseating crawl. A multitude of emotions were running through Al-Fulani's head: Anger, Sadness. But the one emotion that Al-Fulani didn't feel was Fear. He was no stranger to this; when he's been in the Army and fought in Iraq, he'd stared death in the face dozens of times. He wasn't afraid anymore. He knew Allah would take care of him, and he knew Allah would help stop Al-Asad and send him to Jahannam. Al-Fulani's mind turned to his wife and three sons, who had thankfully been taking a vacation in Dubai before this had happened. Content, and not afraid, Yasir Al-Fulani breathed one last time, as Al-Asad brought the Desert Eagle up to his face, cocked it and fired.

**So, there it is. My third chapter. I wish I'd updated sooner, but exams have been a higher priority recently. Hopefully, I'll get 'Blackout' up soon. Until then, though, see you later.**


	4. Blackout

**Disclaimer: COD4 is not mine, but rather Infinity Ward's. I wish it was, though.**

Modern Warfare

Chapter 4: Blackout

_**22:32:27, Wednesday 5**__**th**__**, October 2011**_

_**22 Special Air Service Regiment Headquarters, Credenhill, U.K.**_

_Soap was finishing on the training course. This was one what the SAS did all the time. Otherwise it was actual combat. Today would be no different. After training, half the men on the base, Soap included, would be participating in a mission behind enemy lines in Russia. That was the only information they'd been given. In the tower overlooking the course, Captain Price was in a discussion with 'Cpl Kent' from the cargo ship mission. Soap had later found out that his name was actually Mac, a somewhat harsh man who Soap had met while he was training on the obstacle course. Apparently they were discussing some guy called Nick. Who Nick was, Soap hadn't a clue. One thing that he had learnt in the past 4 months in the SAS was that the Captain did not share much of his history, or indeed any of his personal life. Some people, Soap thought, were like that. After all, he himself was no different. Soap was the quiet one, only speaking when necessary. He didn't consider himself antisocial, but often let the others do the talking._

_As Soap and the other men finished the course and were about to prepare for the mission, they heard someone shout their Captain's name. Turning around, they saw Gaz running towards them, looking like he'd seen a ghost. "Captain Price, Al-Asad just executed President Al-Fulani on national television!" Captain Price eyes widened in shock, before he ran down the steps, past Gaz and into the main building, Gaz following him. The whole group, Soap included, followed, running to Gaz's office. Once in the cramped room, they saw the sight they had dreaded would happen: Al-Asad walking up to Al-Fulani and firing a bullet between his eyes. Soap saw Captain Price staring at the computer, horrified, muttering "No" under his breath over and over. This was the first time Soap had ever seen his Captain lose his composure._

_However, this moment of weakness would not last long, as the older Captain quickly cleared his throat and stood straight. Now, he decided, might as well be the time his men found out about the mission. "The Americans have plans for Al-Asad," he said, "and it's too late to do anything for Al-Fulani. But in less than three hours code-name 'Nikolai' will be executed in Russia." Everyone in the room looked confused, and Gaz was the first one to voice it. "Nikiolai, sir?" he questioned. "Nikolai is our informant in the Ultranationalist camp. He supplied the intel on the cargoship operation." Soap's eyes widened in realisation. This was the 'Nick' that Captain Price and Mac had been discussing. Tonight's mission would be a standard P.O.W. rescue. Sitting down by the computer, Price brought up a dossier of Nikolai. He had a rugged, distinctly Russian looking face. "Nikolai's in hell right now. We're gonna walk him out. We take care of our friends. Let's move." With that, Captain Price left the room. The men slowly followed, most heading to the training course. Soap eventually followed, but was deep in thought. Would Al-Asad be stopped as easily as they thought? Seeing how quickly he'd steamrolled over Al-Fulani's regime suggested that he had more power than America anticipated. Soap quickly snapped out of his thoughts, however. Al-Asad was America's problem. For now, all Soap needed to be concerned about was the mission tonight, so headed to the training course and thought no more of it._

**01:31:24, Thursday 6****th****, October 2011 **

**10 miles south-east of Nalchik, Russia**

Standing in the middle of a marsh, Soap raised his gun, an M4A1 Carbine, and cocked it, ensuring it was chambered properly. In front of him were Gaz and Captain Price, who was wearing a night vision goggle over his left eye. This, combined with his rugged beard, gave Soap the amusing impression that he was looking at a pirate. "The Loyalists are expecting us half a click to the north," Captain Price said, "Move out." The older Captain moved up the hill, his two subordinates following him. "Loyalists, eh?" Gaz questioned, "Are those the good Russians or the bad Russians?" "Well, they won't shoot us on sight, if that's what you're asking." Captain Price said. Soap could've sworn he was suppressing a laugh. "Yeah well, that's good enough for me sir," Gaz said. Walking out of the marsh and up a slope, Captain Price immediately crouched. Soap and Gaz followed suit. Ahead were two Ultranationalists guards. "Weapons free," the Captain ordered. A hail of bullets struck the men, killing them instantly. "Good night," Gaz said.

Soap looked at the two bodies drop to the ground, all life eradicated. Killing was never a pleasant experience for Soap. It always reminded him of the first time he'd taken a life. He could remember it all in vivid detail: Afghanistan, 2002. Soap's squad were under intense fire, and being the only one with a clear shot, Soap had shot and killed three Taliban soldiers out of the eleven present, before a reinforcement squad arrived and took care of the rest. He felt like vomiting afterwards, and stayed awake all night, thinking about what he had done. He wasn't sure if he would be able to live with himself afterwards. However, after taking the lives of more men, Soap had learnt to rationalise it. He always tried to think that for every man he killed, a dozen more were saved. It made killing easier, but never completely okay.

Coming out of his memory, Soap saw his two comrades had advanced to outside a small house just ahead. Quickly catching up with them, Soap went up against the wall along with Gaz. Just visible through a window, Soap saw two men watching a television. It was a news broadcast about Al-Asad's coup in Saudi Arabia. Soap once again thought about the Americans currently planning to invade Saudi Arabia and overthrow Al-Asad, but quickly snapped out of it again. He was on a mission and couldn't afford to daydream. Captain Price took a flashbang off his belt. These grenades were designed to temporarily blind people, making f easier targets. Captain Price pulled the pin and threw the flashbang into the room. A white flash showed that the tactical grenade had done its job. The trio of SAS soldiers quickly moved in and shot the occupants. "Good work," Captain Price said, "There should be a few more guard posts up ahead. Kamarov and his men will be waiting for us in a field to the northwest." Soap could only assume Kamarov was an informant for the mission. Walking along the stream, the men crossed under a bridge. In the hill beyond, there was two more guard houses. The trio stacked up by the front house. Gaz turned to Soap. "Soap - plant some claymores in front of the door, then get their attention." Soap nodded and took out a Claymore. These explosives were designed stick into the ground and to shatter and propel steel balls at targets if they got into proximity. For now, however, they would make handy makeshift devices for attracting the enemy's attention. Setting down the claymore by the entrance, Soap stepped back. Raising his M4A1, he shot the explosive, and the explosion produced the wanted effect; the guards spilled out of the houses. Within a minute, all were dead. Captain Price took point, leading Gaz and Soap up the hill and into another, bigger house. Stacking up by the door, the Captain cautiously opened the door; weapon still trained with his other hand.

The men entered a small field. Soap felt uncomfortable, not being able to shake the feeling that he was being watched. Turning to Captain Price, he saw that he didn't look uncomfortable at all. In fact, it looked like he was smirking. "Gaz, you smell that?" he said. "Yeah," Gaz said, taking the hint, "Kamarov." Suddenly, a man emerged from the bushes, wearing winter gear and holding his weapon up high. Soap was guessing that this was Kamarov. "Welcome to the new Russia, Captain Price," he said. Waving at apparently nothing, suddenly, half of the field stood up. Alarmed, Soap trained his rifle on it, but the realised that the parts of the field were really men, specifically Spetsnaz soldier, the elite of the Russian military. Seemingly calm at the field coming to life, almost as if he was expecting it, Captain Price went straight to business. "What's the target, Kamarov? We've got an informant to recover." Kamarov pointed to beyond the hill behind them. "The Ultranationalists have BM21's on the other side of the hill. Their rockets have killed hundreds of civilians in the valley below." Thinking he was done with British men, Kamarov moved to turn away, but Captain Price grabbed his arm. "Not so fast. Remember Beirut? You're with us." He said. Soap turned to the Captain, then to Gaz. Beirut? What did he mean? Soap suddenly realised that everyone else was moving up the hill. Running to catch up, Soap mentally cursed himself. He had to get a hold of himself. No more drifting off into daydreaming. If he didn't get a hold of himself, he'd be kicked out of the SAS, and that was one thing he did not want.

"This way," Kamarov said, "There's a good spot where your sniper can cover my men." Reaching the top of the hill, Soap saw a ruined house and a garden covered with children's toys. Children had lived here, and the Ultranationalists had killed them. Feeling sick, Soap continued, and saw a town down below, missiles firing up into the sky, with the ultranationalists everywhere. Soap no longer had any hesitation to kill these men. They'd earned their deaths by killing these innocent people. Letting his M4A1 drop to his side, Soap brought out his M21 Sniper Rifle. Finding a spot on the ridge not covered in long grass, Soap crouched and looked down the sights, training his crosshairs on the first man he came across. "All units," Kamarov radioed, "Commence the attack." Not a second after the words had escaped his lips, the village sprang to life. The loyalist soldiers stormed the village, and within a moment turned it into a warzone. Steadying his breath, Soap began picking targets, hitting his mark every time until his gun was out of ammo, forcing him to reload. When he came back, he saw the loyalists getting rapidly picked of by something. "Soap, take out the machine gunners in the windows so Kamarov's men can storm the building!" Captain Price ordered. Quickly looking around through his scope, Soap saw the thing that was killing the loyalists; two machine guns in the nearest house. Aiming his Sniper Rifle, Soap shot the first in the chest, but as for the second, he couldn't see him from this angle. He would have to shoot through the wall, which he wasn't sure the M21 was capable of. However, he summarised, if he didn't do anything soon, more men would die. Aiming at the wall, hopefully where the second machine gunner would be, Soap pulled the trigger. His prayers were answered; the bullet shot through the wall, and must have hit the man, as the gun fell silent. Able to return to his original targets, Soap kept firing until…

"Damn, enemy Helicopters!" Kamarov cursed. Captain Price turned to the Sergeant with frustration in his eyes. "You didn't say there would be any helicopters Kamarov." "I didn't say there wouldn't be any either," Kamarov retorted, "We need to protect my men from those helicopter troops. This way!" The group of men moved along the ridge towards a burnt out husk of a house. "Make it quick Kamarov, I want that informant..." Captain Price said impatiently. "You have nothing to worry about. We'll take out the BM21s and carve a path straight to your informant Captain Price." Soap by now was beginning to get the feeling that Kamarov didn't care about the informant, only using the SAS for sniper support. And these were the 'good Russians?' Soap was getting the feeling that Russians in general were just morally devoid. "We should just beat it out of him sir," Gaz whispered. Evidently he was thinking the same thing as Soap. "Not yet," the Captain said. Moving through the burnt house, the men emerged onto a sloping field. Gaz looked up, and alarm struck him. "Sir we've got company! Helicopter troops closing in fast!" Soap drew his M4A1, equipped the M203 grenade launcher underneath it, and fired. The grenade sailed through the air and obliterated two of the Ultranationalist soldiers. Content with the result, Soap fired at the remaining men. In the end, the rebels were no match, dead within two minutes of engaging the quartet.

Kamarov ran to the edge of the cliff. "Captain Price," he called, "my men have run into heavy resistance. Help me support them from the cliffs." Taking out his sniper rifle again, Soap jogged to the cliff edge and resumed sniping. Captain Price, however, was less than content with Kamarov's order. "What about our informant? He's running out of time!" "Then help us," Kamarov said exasperatedly, "The further my men can get into this village, the closer we will be to securing your informant!" Staring down his scope, Soap kept on sniping. This was his specialty. He even managed a difficult shot on a man behind a wall. "Nice shot," Captain Price said, "Macmillan would be impressed." Soap hadn't a clue who Macmillan was; presumably just another figure from the Captain's mysterious past. When this mission was complete, Soap was going to try to have a serious talk with Captain Price about Beirut, Macmillan and other stuff he'd heard about him.

"Good!" Kamarov said, apparently impressed with Soap's sniping ability, "Now we are making progress. Follow me to the power station." Running up the slope, the quartet reached the Power Station, and Soap was surprised that this tiny village needed one this big. Kamarov walked over to the ledge, observing the battle in the village. "Look. The final assault has already begun. With a little more of your sniper support we are sure to be victorious. Captain Price, I need to ask a favour…" "ENOUGH SNIPING!" Gaz yelled. Grabbing hold of Kamarov's collar, he pushed the Russian onto the ledge. "Where is the informant?" he demanded. Kamarov started shouting in Russian about what the hell he thought he was doing. Soap turned to Captain Price, who din't look surprised at all. On the contrary, he looked like he was suppressing laughter. Gaz's impatience was beginning to get the better of him, and he pushed Kamarov further over the ledge, before almost snarling, "Where is he?" Looking at the extraordinarily long way sown, Kamarov relented. "The house..." he desperately said, "the house at the northeast end of village!" Gaz dragged Kamarov off the ledge and back on his feet. "Well that wasn't so hard was it?" he said sarcastically, "Now go sit in the corner." Kamarov did exactly that, like achild being punished. Captain Price calmed his suppressed laughter and turned to his two men. "Soap, Gaz. We've got to reach that house before anything happens to the informant. Let's go!" The trio hooked themselves up to the ziplines on the ledge and rappelled off the Power Station.

Jumping over the wall, Soap found himself in the battle-torn village. Reloading , he started engaging the Ultranationalists, easily eliminating the untrained rebels. "Bloody hell," Captain Price said, observing the damage around him, "Lets move. He may still be alive." Running up the hill, Soap saw the house the Informant was being held in. Captain Price turned to Gaz and instructed him to cut the power. Soap understood what was going to happen next and drew his night-vision goggles over his eyes. Although everything was green, he could see. Stacking up by the door, Captain Price gave the order. After a few seconds, Gaz radioed his two teamates. "Alright, I've cut the power. Go!" Silently opening the door, Captain Price went inside, followed by Soap. The entire house had suffered from a blackout. Soap spotted a man calling for his teamate. Raising his rifle, Soap shot the men in the chest, killing him. "These night vision goggles make it too easy," Captain Price commented. Soap turned to his Captain, noting that he seemed to enjoy this a little too much. Continuing through the house, Soap saw another man, calling for his fallen comrade. Soap raised his gun again, and shot him. The man fell to the floor, blood seeping from his wounds. Moving upstairs, Soap saw a figure pass by the windows. It was Gaz finding his way in. Entering a door, Gaz engaged quickly eliminated the enemies in the room. With one last target, Soap raised his M4A1 a final time and fired. The rebel fell to the floor, his flashlight falling out of his hand in rolling across the floor. The light revealed a man who was beaten and bloodied. This, Soap guessed, was Nikolai. Walking towards the captive man, Captain Price helped Nikolai up, before passing him an AK74u he'd found on the ground. "Nikolai, are you all right?" Gaz asked, worry in his voice, "Can you walk?" Nikolai nodded "Yes...and I can still fight. Thank you for getting me out of here."

Captain Price radioed for extraction. Emerging from the house and onto the field, Soap saw their helicopter landing. They quickly boarded it, Nikolai needing some help. All on board, the helicopter started to disembark. Nikolai turned to Captain Price, concern suddenly in his eyes. "Have the Americans already attacked Al-Asad?" He asked. Soap looked at the Russian, confused. "No," Captain Price said, also confused, "Their invasion starts in a few hours. Why?" Nikolai looked at the Captain, his worst fear confirmed. "The Americans are making a mistake. They will never take Al-Asad alive." Soap looked at Nikolai, and then stared into space, lost in thought. Judging by what Nikolai said, his concern earlier that day about Al-Asad might not have been as paranoid and unfounded as he first thought.

**And there is Blackout done. I'm so sorry it's taken such a long time to upload, but exams and other concerns, combined with a temporary lack of motivation, have contributed to that. Anyway, I'll want to finish this story within the next few months, but in the meantime, I'll be making a few other fanfictions. One of them is already up, COD: missing scenes, which is about events that happen to the characters not documented in the game. I'm also thinking about another fanfiction, about biographies of the different characters. Anyway, Charlie Don't Surf Is up next, but until then, See you later.**


End file.
